The Fighting Fathers: A "History" RPG IC Thread

[Byrd Man]

Mt. Rushmore, South Dakota
Executive Branch Headquarters
1745 Hours Local Time



The door leading from the inner chamber opened with a soft hiss. Out of the door came Franklin Roosevelt, his electric wheelchair gliding soundlessly over the polished floor. He passed through the long corridor into the facility's rotunda. Inside, a bevy of junior agents and analysts scurried to and from their work stations. They all gave Roosevelt a wide berth as he passed by them. He swapped pleasantries with a few of the agents as he passed through the rotunda. Most of the traffic was due to the swap off of the day shift, which worked from six to six, swapping out with the night shift. Roosevelt came out of the rotunda and went down another long hallway to the shooting range. A loud boom came from inside the padded walls of the gun range. The electronic door in front of Roosevelt opened as he wheeled through into the room.

At the end of the range was Roosevelt's cousin. In truth, the man was his fifth cousin, and they had never been close, but there were blood all the same. Roosevelt watched as his cousin blew a chunk out of a paper target with the huge elephant gun in his arms.

"And what is the order of the day, Young Franklin," Teddy Roosevelt asked without looking away from his target. The gun kicked in Teddy's hand, another loud boom accompanying it. The paper target lost its head.

"I have a message from the Founders," Franklin said as he moved closer.

"And what, pray tell, is that message?"

"We have a mission."

Teddy looked away from his target and down at his wheelchair bound younger cousin.

"Bully," he said with a large grin. "Where would you have me?"

"In the conference room," said Franklin. "I will call the rest of the team together, and we will meet there."

Teddy placed his rifle down on the gun range and nodded at Franklin. Franklin wheeled out of the gun range and down the hall with Teddy in tow. A holographic display projected from Franklin's wheelchair and floated in front of him as he moved. It showed the current senior agents the Executive Branch had on active duty and here inside the Rushmore facility.

A. Jackson
J. Kennedy
A. Lincoln
R. Nixon

Franklin activated the communicator beacon with his mind and broadcasted his message to the four other men.

"Attention, your presence is needed in the conference room in five minutes. A briefing is imminent, gentlemen, please be prompt."

[ActRaiser]

Nixon was reading the spells in the library, looking for ways to increase one's alignment towards good so he could redeem himself, suddenly, he got a call. "Attention, your presence is needed in the conference room in five minutes." Before the call could be finished, Nixon had teleported there. You couldn't tell it was Nixon though, he was in a long-black robe and hood, and he stood there with a gem tipped staff. Nixon's presence seemed foreboding.

[Master Bruce]

"Gods! The President has been shot! Someone get a medic, the President has been...!"

I awake in a cold sweat, a ringing in my ears. The sound of a single gunshot still echoing throughout the steel-plated room. In my waking hours, it is over a century later. But even after all this time, well, I can still smell and taste - even hear - the world of 1865. We had just passed the biggest hurdle in the war. General Robert E. Lee had just surrendered, though he'll never admit to it now. Mending of the fences was to be my personal goal through an already torturous second term. Yet all I see around me are these damnedable trappings of a foreign period. This "two-thousand and thirteen". Times that have changed, unwilling to wait for me to catch up. It disturbs a man. It plagues him. Never could I have imagined this to be the sum total of my duties.

Rising from the bed, I slip on my wool jacket and feel the ache of a sore shoulder. Mary, she always told me I'd pull something out of place, chopping all that wood. If she were alive today, she'd be smiling. Telling me she was right. Through all her faults, still, I miss that woman.

"Attention, your presence is needed in the conference room in five minutes. A briefing is imminent, gentlemen, please be prompt."

But enough sulking through the ghosts of the past. There's work still yet to be done.

I eye the axe sitting across the room. Long as I have that, I will be burdened with the knowledge that I may yet see another day.

"Give me a moment to stretch my legs,", I say to no one in particular, departing the room.

[Hound55]

A relatively young man (for this facility anyway) stands naked in front of the mirror of his extravagant Westchester dresser. His head is down, a flat pink cylinder in his hands. He smiles broadly, his headache gone again. He arches his back, cracking it in the process. That pain has eased as well. He puts the pink pillbox hat back, hanging it on the corner of the mirror.

He thought about how he wound up in this situation.

Dallas, Texas
Texas School Book Depository
November 22, 1966
1225 Hours Central

A young former Marine, thrice court-martialed, loads the special rounds he was provided into his Carcano rifle. Lee Harvey Oswald's marksmanship, disciplinary issues, a defection to the Soviets and a juvenile psych-record that described him as possessing "schizoid features and passive-aggressive tendencies" made him perfect for this mission. The same reports which claimed he had a "vivid fantasy life, turning around the topics of omnipotence and power, through which he tries to compensate for his present shortcomings and frustrations." would help provide a justifiable motive without digging too deep, especially when combined with a political climate that would be eager for a swift, definitive result. They hadn't planned for a Jack Ruby to completely cover their tracks, but it did no harm.

Who would believe the story that a long dead President approached Lee Harvey Oswald with a bunch of magic rounds telling him that the state of the free world rested in his hands?

They hadn't lied.

When arrested, Oswald claimed he was a patsy. That wasn't a lie either, although not for the reasons he believed...

Oswald takes sight as the motorcade turns down the street. He fires a round. The recoil pumps against his shoulder, catching a tuft of fibres police will later use to connect him to the gun. His first shot is too clean, and soars straight through the President's back and exits out of his throat before the magical properties of the first shot kicked in. He fires a second and third in quick succession, and the mission is done.

"Jack!"

Mt. Rushmore, South Dakota
Executive Branch Headquarters
1750 Hours Local Time

"Jack!" a decidedly more masculine voice than that of his wife called out to him.

John Fitzgerald Kennedy turns to face the query.

"Oh for God's sake! Cover yourself up!"

A big bright smile crosses the 35th President's face. He puts a pair of boxer shorts on and then takes a watch that costs more than a small car off of the dresser and wraps it around his wrist. He checks his still perfectly coiffed hair and million dollar smile in the mirror before looking back.

"They're calling you, didn't you hear?"

"I was busy..." Kennedy responded.

"Wow..." a young feminine voice exclaims in her afterglow on the bed behind him. "Wait until Mom hears about this..."

"Oh God! She can't be here! How did she get in here? Who is she?"

The young girl reached out and grabbed her clothes. "She is never going to believe this. John F. Kennedy. Wow..."

"She can't see this place! What is wrong with you?!"

"Relax." Jack said, cool as a cucumber. "She looks like she can keep a secret..."

"In fact... I bet she doesn't even remember any of this. Do you, sweetheart..?" he flashed her a rakish grin.

The girl stared blankly for a second. Then turned and looked at him.

"Oh my God! It's John F. Kennedy!!!"

Jack winced away from the squealing girl. Great. Less than five minutes later and already he could feel the next headache brewing and rattling all the way through his head to the base of his spine. He pinched the bridge of his nose, knowing it would offer him little respite.

"Let's see if we can get this right... You're going to get a cab from my friend here and you're not going to remember me, this place or anything that has transpired. Now let's get dressed."

The girl started to get dressed, a big smile on her face the whole time. Jack finished dressing himself and looked a million dollars in his perfectly tailored suit.

The girl walked out of the room and shot Jack one last broad smile before she'd get her cab and forget everything.

The man next to him gave off a long impressed whistle at the girl's figure and impression of the 35th President.

"Wow-ee. How'd you manage that, hero?"

"It was easy," Jack called back, jogging briskly for the Conference Room "I split her PT boat in half..."

[wiegeabo]

I unsheathe my vibrosword, as I spin around. With my free hand, I plant my fist right in the snout of the garbledemon, a nasty spiky creature about the size of a large dog that enjoys screeching in pitches that disorient their victims. It reals back, but not enough. So I give it a stiff kick, activating the jet on my flight boots for good measure. That sends it scampering.

I spin back around, blade now humming at neck level just in time to connect with the samuri knight-errant that had been tracking me for the last half hour. His head plops to the ground, and i make the mistake of turning at a new sound behind me, it gives the samuri,s body a chance to run his sword through my back.

"Ahhmmmggh!" I try to stifle the shout as I look at the blade protruding from my chest. I've been hurt worse. But it still smarts, dammit!

I whip out my blaster and use its last shot to vaporize a chunk from the body. It finally falls. So I drop the blaster and turn to deal with my new attacker-

"Attention, your presence is needed in the conference room in five minutes. A briefing is imminent, gentlemen, please be prompt."

"Stuff your five minutes!" I shout at the air.

I try to bring my sword up, but the orangtoo slaps it away with one of its tentacles.

"I do not think I wish to deal with your ilk today."

I grab the orangtoo's equivalent of shoulders and pull it against my, piercing its body with the sword still plunged into mine. It squirms and coughs a splatter of purple goo an my jacket. I push it off, letting it fall unceremoniously to the ground.

I here hissing and other sounds close in around me.

"Pity. I was just feeling warmed up. End exercise."

The valley around me shimmers, the thunderclaps instantly dying as the simulation ends. The blade in my chest also disappears, and I can feel the painfully annoying itch as my body repairs the wound.

I walk towards the exit, unfastening my armor as I walk. "This better be good, old man," I mumble to myself...

[Byrd Man]

"Gentlemen," FDR said once the five ex-presidents were gathered around the table. "Once more, we have Adolf Hitler in our sights."

A holographic display kicked kicked on and levitated in the center of the table. It showed a three-dimension photo of a castle on top of a high hill. "This is Castle Hafthorsson twenty miles north of Fjarðabyggð in Iceland. Pinball, the Executive Branch's mole inside the Fourth Reich has confirmed that the Robo Furher is meeting with his vampire high command at the castle. That means Hitler, Goring, and Eichman will all be there. They are the last remnants of the Nazi inner circle who committed some of the worst atrocities of the 20th century. General Sherman and his tactical team are over the Atlantic as we speak. Mister Nixon, if you could be so kind, will teleport you to Fjarðabyggð where you will rendezvous with Grant and his men and proceed to the castle. Questions?"

"Why can't we just send in Mister Truman?" asked Teddy. "You say the leadership of the Fourth Reich will be there? Use Truman like a bomb and let him lay waste to the entire area. Let these devils and beasts burn in atomic fire."

"Show of hands, how many of you have personally killed Adolf Hitler since 1945?"

Everyone, save Kennedy and FDR, raised their hands.

"Exactly," said the wheelchair bound president. "The Founders want Hilter's robotic body deactivated and his brain confiscated. As for the rest? Standing kill orders on the rest. The Founders want to show the Fourth Reich the American version of a final solution."

FDR took out his cigarette holder and placed it in his mouth. He sucked on the empty holder and looked around.

"Questions? Comments? Mister Lincoln, any amusing anecdotes?"

[ActRaiser]

Former President Nixon raised his hand. "Maybe we should find some kind of way to infiltrate this Fourth Reich stronghold. I could try to assassinate Mr. Hitler, maybe suck out his soul and begone. In the chaos that ensues, we could nuke the area from there. I mean, in addition to taking Mr. Hitler's brain and doing what the Father's ask, without a soul, there's not much ability to come back from the dead. Do you think that the Father's would like this plan? We wouldn't have to endanger the lives of our other members, and I could finally settle my old score of "Who's the most evil Right-Wing" with our dear Fuhrer." Nixon joked nonchalantly.

[Byrd Man]

"While the idea of using an advanced scouting party has merits, Mister Nixon, I am afraid the Founders wish to preserve Hitler's brain intact for imprisonment. I assume that would include his soul as well."

"Why the blazes would they want to do that?" asked Teddy. "He should be killed. Although I must admit, cousin, that death is a fate too good for the likes of him."

"The Founder's keep their own council on that matter, cousin. To what they wish to accomplish by this, I can only guess. As for Mister Nixon's suggestion of bombing, therein lies another problem. There are a collection of farm houses set around the castle. They are far enough away for us to carry out our mission, but close enough for any potential fallout from the use of atomic or nuclear weapons."

[ActRaiser]

"If that's the case, I only ask I can take Eichman's soul for a soul battery charger of my black magic." Richard responded. He sighed. "Hitler's soul would have made a great battery. I can dream can't I?" He crossed something off a book he conjured from the air and wrote down something behind the skull embroidered black cover. He thought for a moment about something that seemed important, then wrote the names "Eichmann", and "Stalin" between eachother, putting a question mark in the middle of them. "Ah, I see." Nixon said at the mention of innocents.

[Hound55]

"Gentlemen," FDR said once the five ex-presidents were gathered around the table. "Once more, we have Adolf Hitler in our sights."

A holographic display kicked kicked on and levitated in the center of the table. It showed a three-dimension photo of a castle on top of a high hill. "This is Castle Hafthorsson twenty miles north of Fjarðabyggð in Iceland.

John F. Kennedy got up from his seat and ambled over to the bar, watching when the holographic display changed and just listening to the briefing. The seating arrangement had a tendency of just working itself out into chronological order in terms of election and something about Nixon, whether it was the sweating awkwardness or the dark sorcery, put him ill at ease. The fact that Jack could never tell if he'd gotten over his election loss, didn't make things any better.

He made himself a daiquiri and leant against the bar to settle in for the long haul. His headache was already starting to return, although it was a long way from its full intensity.

Pinball, the Executive Branch's mole inside the Fourth Reich has confirmed that the Robo Furher is meeting with his vampire high command at the castle. That means Hitler, Goring, and Eichman will all be there. They are the last remnants of the Nazi inner circle who committed some of the worst atrocities of the 20th century. General Sherman and his tactical team are over the Atlantic as we speak. Mister Nixon, if you could be so kind, will teleport you to Fjarðabyggð where you will rendezvous with Grant and his men and proceed to the castle. Questions?"

"Why can't we just send in Mister Truman?" asked Teddy. "You say the leadership of the Fourth Reich will be there? Use Truman like a bomb and let him lay waste to the entire area. Let these devils and beasts burn in atomic fire."

"Show of hands, how many of you have personally killed Adolf Hitler since 1945?"

Everyone, save Kennedy and FDR, raised their hands.

"Oh I get it, this is another 'Ha ha, fuck the Navy guy.' moment, isn't it?" Kennedy muttered to himself.

"Exactly," said the wheelchair bound president. "The Founders want Hilter's robotic body deactivated and his brain confiscated. As for the rest? Standing kill orders on the rest. The Founders want to show the Fourth Reich the American version of a final solution."

FDR took out his cigarette holder and placed it in his mouth. He sucked on the empty holder and looked around.

"Questions? Comments? Mister Lincoln, any amusing anecdotes?"

Former President Nixon raised his hand. "Maybe we should find some kind of way to infiltrate this Fourth Reich stronghold. I could try to assassinate Mr. Hitler, maybe suck out his soul and begone. In the chaos that ensues, we could nuke the area from there. I mean, in addition to taking Mr. Hitler's brain and doing what the Father's ask, without a soul, there's not much ability to come back from the dead. Do you think that the Father's would like this plan? We wouldn't have to endanger the lives of our other members, and I could finally settle my old score of "Who's the most evil Right-Wing" with our dear Fuhrer." Nixon joked nonchalantly.

"While the idea of using an advanced scouting party has merits, Mister Nixon, I am afraid the Founders wish to preserve Hitler's brain intact for imprisonment. I assume that would include his soul as well."

"Why the blazes would they want to do that?" asked Teddy. "He should be killed. Although I must admit, cousin, that death is a fate too good for the likes of him."

"The Founder's keep their own council on that matter, cousin. To what they wish to accomplish by this, I can only guess. As for Mister Nixon's suggestion of bombing, therein lies another problem. There are a collection of farm houses set around the castle. They are far enough away for us to carry out our mission, but close enough for any potential fallout from the use of atomic or nuclear weapons."

"Not to mention the little fact that where Hitler's concerned we can't even be sure of the ownership status of the withered black muck that counts as his soul. Be all well and good to try that only to find out he's sold his soul to another entity. Let's not forget he's another with occult links." Jack mentioned.

"If that's the case, I only ask I can take Eichman's soul for a soul battery charger of my black magic." Richard responded. He sighed. "Hitler's soul would have made a great battery. I can dream can't I?" He crossed something off a book he conjured from the air and wrote down something behind the skull embroidered black cover. He thought for a moment about something that seemed important, then wrote the names "Eichmann", and "Stalin" between eachother, putting a question mark in the middle of them. "Ah, I see." Nixon said at the mention of innocents.

"Sure your diary will do there, Dicky?" Kennedy jibed. "You don't want to record the briefing for posterity?"